


And The House Felt So Big

by AlaskaThorne



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Based on a song, Prequel, evan's dad leaving, so big/so small
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 09:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaskaThorne/pseuds/AlaskaThorne
Summary: A short piece of fanfiction based on the song So Big/So Small from Dear Evan Hansen





	And The House Felt So Big

It was a February day, and the window was fogged up with your breath. You sat on my lap beside the window. The truck looked dull under the clouds, a crazy artifact beside our rusty Ford. That didn't matter to youーthe painted words on the side were more than enough to occupy your attention.

I set you down on the rocking chair when we heard the doorbell. He was holding a suitcase, and he passed it on to me. It was empty. His gaze wasn’t apologeticーnot for me, maybe guilty at leaving you, but I didn’t expect much. I turned awayーI was dealing with this for you, you see, 'cause I already knew this was over. That was the day it was suddenly real.

You tugged at my shirtーI still have that shirt, the blue and pink flannel, though it’s all faded out, nowーand I looked away; I didn’t look at you or your dad.

“Not now, baby, don’t come outside.” You kept on tugging my shirt.

I looked at your face, your wide smile. I remember it clear as day, the little furrow your squinting caused between your eyebrows, the way you kept looking out the door. You were so excited, sweetheart.

“Truck. Mommy, there’s a truck!” I looked back; I could see your dad melting, too. We led you outside, the empty suitcase abandoned, set down just inside the open doorway.

I think you thought Dad was back. I didn’t know what to do.

We let you sit behind the wheel.

 

Later, just before dinner, we watched that truck pull out of the driveway, your dad driving away.

“Bye-bye.” You were drawing patterns on the window.

_Goodbye._

You sneezed and laughed, and I laughed right along.

_Now it’s just me and my little guy._

 

The sounds of the dishes echoed in the emptiness, and I reflected with a bit of a laughーyou know that feeling when there’s nothing else you can do but laugh?ーthat it was no louder than the arguing I’d gone through most days before that one. Still. It all felt so _big_ , and I felt so small. So unimportant.

 

Glow stars covered the ceiling and the Ninja Turtle night light I bought you a week ago sat brightly in its outlet. “... _My sunshine away._ ” As I finished the song, I messed up your hair before tucking it behind your ears, your eyes already sleepy.

“Mommy?” I don’t think you could find the words you needed, when I turned back, and I waited. “Is there another truck coming to our driveway? A truck that...will take Mommy away?”

You looked so scared, with that chin wobbling and tears threatening to overflow, but I couldn’t blame you one bit. I never meant for you to get hurt, Evan.

I didn’t want to face it. Not a bit. But sometimes, it’s deal with it or let the U-Haul truck run you over because you’re too scared. Evan, I had you to worry about. No, it’s not a bad thing to worry. It’s not _pity_. I never wanted you to hurt. And I _knew_ , right then, that there were moments that I would miss, and I knew there would be space I couldn’t fill. And I knew. I’d come up short a _million_ different ways, big and small.

And I did, don’t you think? I did. And I do. And I will.

That February day (or night, I should say), I tucked you in. I wiped your tears, though mine were falling too.

“Your mom isn’t going anywhere.” You didn’t look convincedーI’ve seen that look all the time since back then. Anyways, it didn’t matter. I meant it with all my heart, and even now, I mean it with this pizza-night-bailing, always falling short heart.

“Your mom is staying right here.”

You hear me, Evan? Your mom isn’t going _anywhere_ , your mom is staying right here. _No matter what._ I’ll be here.

When it all feels so big and crazy and painful, all the way until it feels like a tiny thing in a long, _long_ story. I will be here.


End file.
